


Terrified of One Another

by GalacticGoat



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blood, Body Horror, Cannibalism, Canon-Typical Violence, Corpses, Eye Horror, Gore, Graphic Description of Corpses, Hospitals, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Medical Experimentation, Slow Build, Sorry yikes these tags make this sound like a nightmare lmao, Swearing, Vomiting, also one of these tags is not like the others........., i have to admit that probably should've been added earlier, the 'oh god why' tags keep piling up oh no, why do i always have to use that tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-25
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-06 03:34:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4206426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalacticGoat/pseuds/GalacticGoat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s staining the bathroom mirror with sweat and tears and dried vomit from his sticky palms. Honestly, he couldn’t care less.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Kitchen Knife

He’s staining the bathroom mirror with sweat and tears and dried vomit from his sticky palms. Honestly, he couldn’t care less.

Kaneki’s arms tremble as he swipes a thumb across what should-- but can’t-- be his face. Most of his features are as familiar as ever: a pale, young face framed by neatly-cut black bangs, with an expression currently sculpted into terror because one of his wide eyes is disturbingly different from what he’s accustomed to. His right eye retains its normalcy, ringed with a silver-grey iris and stretched in perpetual curiosity. But his left eye… _Oh, his left eye_. It’s the product of nightmares. The sclera is pitch black, only helping to accentuate a glowing band of red that lays where his other iris should be. Vibrant veins etch their way around and past the eyeball itself, tracing lines on his skin.

Kaneki’s other hand creeps towards his face to cautiously prod the area around the eye, as if to confirm that he is staring at his actual reflection and not a victim’s from a horror film. A gentle poke causes his eye to jerk and twitch shut, and the accompanying itch helps the boy throw all his discretion out the window and frantically rub his face with both hands. His breath is strangled, botched by low sobs that leave his throat sore and raw.

He feels tainted and grotesque, and the only ailment that comes to mind leaves him shuddering.

Stumbling to the kitchen and ignoring the crunch of discarded food underfoot, his hands scrabble in a drawer until one wraps around the handle of a kitchen knife. The unoccupied hand flies to his pocket, and pulls out a phone that is quickly dialed to 119, yet the ‘call’ button remains unpressed. The knife’s tip is soon angled towards his face, and his thought process is racing too fast to scream at him to stop. His thumb rests on the ‘call’ button, and he inhales deeply before loudly exhaling in a desperate attempt to quell his nerves. He can’t wait for medics to come, he needs to do this immediately. Even if he did call without enacting his plan, the situation wouldn’t seem life-threatening enough to warrant an ambulance. This is the only way to fix this mess quickly. _Press the ‘call’ button, use the knife to dig out the eye._ _He can do this._

He takes a final breath as his thumb and arm jerk into movement-- only to be interrupted by a shrill ringtone. His movements halt to a reluctant stop.

Glancing at Caller I.D., Kaneki should not be surprised by who called.

He hesitates to answer the phone, but quickly disregards his uncertainty and holds the phone to his ear. Refusing to answer would only make him seem more suspicious, and he doesn’t want to frighten his friend. Hide is under enough stress with finals and work, and while Kaneki certainly needs help, he doesn’t want to burden anyone he cares about unnecessarily. He knows he’s acting irrational, but he cannot find it in himself to stop.

As he presses the button to answer, Hide’s demanding voice is almost instantaneous.

“ _Yo, Kaneki! You’re finally showing signs of being alive, eh? It’s been days, Ken, days! I thought I was going to have to walk over to the police station and file a missing person’s report._ ” Kaneki knows he’s joking, considering he hadn’t bothered to stop by Kaneki’s apartment yet, but his stomach drops at the thought of Hide having no clue where Kaneki was until he received word that he was admitted to a hospital. That would be cruel to his friend. Kaneki does his best to level out his voice, trying to feign nonchalance.

“Um, yeah. I’m still alive, Hide.” He tacks on a weak, uncertain chuckle for good measure.

“ _Where the heck have you been?_ ” Well, Kaneki certainly can’t say that he’s been passed out in his apartment for nearly two days straight. That sounds like a terrible excuse, even though it’s exactly what happened. He feels even less compelled to share what he was planning to do next.

He’s still stumbling over possible alibis, each progressively sounding shabbier than their former, when his friend calls through the line again.

“ _Hello? Are you still there, buddy? Don’t tell me you’ve spaced out on me._ ” Hide sounds more concerned than irritated.

 “I-I’ve been pretty busy! Studying, and stuff. Things.”

“ _It’s great to see that as a student in the Department of Literature, you certainly do have a way with words,_ ” Hide sarcastically replies.

At a loss for words, Kaneki forces out a laugh. His gaze falls on his hands, and he realizes that the knife is still in his free palm. He impulsively tosses it across the room in horror, wincing as it clatters loudly on the hardwood floor.

“ _What was that sound?_ ” His friend proves himself to have super-human hearing.

“Aha… I, uh,” Quick thinking, Kaneki, quick thinking… “I dropped a spoon.” He rubs his chin with his left hand.

“ _A spoon? Were you eating?_ ”

“I was eating before you called.” Technically, he’s not lying now. He’s simply forgoing the fact that he was unable to keep even a single crumb down.

“ _It’s eleven at night,_ ” Hide’s voice is flat. Kaneki starts to panic; he knows that tone of voice means Hide is catching on to the fact that the other boy is being untruthful.

“Maybe I was hungry, and decided to eat despite the time of night? Hide, you’re a culprit of that yourself. There’s no need to be so skeptical.” He considers hanging up the phone and walking away, exasperated at how defensive and guilty his own tone sounds.

“ _Fine, that’s true. You caught me there._ ” Kaneki exhales the breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding.

 “ _On a totally different topic, you’ve got a lot of notes to catch up on in Asian History, considering you’ve been gone for a bit. Do you want me to walk over to your place and lend mine to you? I’ve got some free time._ ” Kaneki’s friend’s voice has resumed being lighthearted. His sudden change in topic leaves Kaneki feeling slightly off-balance due to the lack of pursuit on Hide’s part, but he is grateful nonetheless.

“No, I can borrow them from you next time I come to class. Don’t worry about walking over here. It’s late at night anyways; you said so yourself.” A strained half-smile pulls at Kaneki’s lips. It’s typical of Hide to worry about the time of day when it comes to a certain topic, and then promptly forget about it in the next breath. 

“ _Alright, but you’d better come back soon, you class-skipping jerk! There’s no one to talk to in there. When rabbits get lonely, they--_ ”

“--Can die, I know, Hide. You say that every time I miss a day or two in class.”

“ _Rude. You can’t just go stealing people’s thunder like that, Kaneki!_ ”

 “Sorry. I guess you’ll have to find a new saying.” There’s a snort on the other side of the line. The conversation trickles to an end. Kaneki sighs.

 “Anyways, I think I’m going to go to bed now. It’s been a long day.” What an understatement. He has no intention to fall asleep at the moment, but he knows the longer he continues this phone call, the further into the dangerous territory known as ‘lying to Hide’ he will have to tread. His friend is too insightful for his own good.

 “ _Sure, just make sure to rest a lot. I don’t want any innocent souls catching whatever you have when we meet up again._ ” Kaneki suddenly feels like he’s been drenched in ice water.

He doesn’t recall saying anything about his problem, so how does Hide know? Is his eye’s transformation even viable enough to be considered a sickness, rather than a deformity? Now that the problem is on his mind again, all he can think about is how he wants it out of his body as quickly as possible. He trips over his tongue as he tries to respond.

“W-What?! When did I say I was sick?”

“ _You didn’t, buddy. But you sound congested, and who misses class for studying? It makes absolutely no sense. I know you have your moments, Ken, but that excuse was downright boneheaded. There’s no reason to keep me in the dark! I’m here to help, even if I catch your killer cold and end up gushing snot everywhere for a solid week afterwards!_ ”

 A cold. Hide thinks Kaneki has a cold. Kaneki would genuinely laugh in relief if the reality of his situation wasn’t so disturbing. An involuntary shiver runs down his spine. His voice sounds drained of energy when he replies.

“Don’t bother, Hide. There’s no point in dragging you into this, and I think I’m nearing the end of it.”

“ _You make it sound like you’re going into a gang fight, rather than dealing with a cold. Talk about dramatic!_ ”

“Maybe you’re interpreting my words too deeply.” Hide lets out a bark of laughter. “Well, I really should go to sleep. I’ll see you soon.” He waits for his friend to call out an offhand “goodnight” before hanging up the phone.

 Now he’s alone again, able to ruminate on his thoughts in silence. The quietness does nothing to comfort Kaneki.

He soon moves to hunch over the kitchen’s counter, trying to swallow the truth that he nearly gouged one of his eyes out intentionally. He still wants to remove it, or fix it, or _something_ , but his rationality has finally resurfaced after his talk with Hide. What would he have gained from his original plan? If he had been unable to contact 119 there’s no telling how things would have went. If he had managed to get to the hospital, could he even afford his portion of the bill for eye trauma? There were too many uncertainties in his former plan, but he doesn’t know what else to do.

Kaneki drags his feet towards his bed, and settles on the floor nearby. He still reeks of vomit and perspiration, but exhaustion trumps his motivation to go bathe. The boy is stuck in a mental impasse, clueless in wondering what he should do next. He sits in the same spot, unsure of how much time passes. His focus wavers in and out, until a sharp knock on his apartment’s door rings out. 

He remains in his spot, silently hoping the person will leave when he hears another firm series of knocks, this time paired with a voice.

“Open the door, stupid! I know you’re in there.” He should have known Hide wouldn’t leave him alone. He was suspiciously too compliant with Kaneki on the phone. Maybe if he stays quiet, his friend will assume he’s sleeping too deeply to wake up and answer the door.

...Yeah right. Hide’s muffled voice sounds irritated as he shouts through the door.

“Why are you being so difficult?! I’m going to count to ten, and if you don’t answer by then, I’ll head over to the landlady to ask for a key to your place!” _Shit!_ Kaneki scrambles to his feet and rushes to the door, covering his eye with his left hand in a last-second attempt to conceal it. He doubts Hide is bluffing, and the landlady knows the other boy’s relation to Kaneki well enough that she’d happily hand over a key.

Hide has only reached three when Kaneki rips the door open, slightly wheezing due to the impromptu sprint. Hide glares at Kaneki like a condescending parent, and the other boy shrinks under his gaze, still clutching a hand over his eye. Opening his mouth to say something, Kaneki’s friend abruptly changes his mind and shuts it again. Instead, he reaches out an arm, stretching it towards Kaneki’s face. Before he can flinch away, the cowering boy receives a solid flick to his forehead.

 “That’s what you get for being a terrible liar, Kaneki.” Hide doesn’t elaborate further, or comment on his friend’s other strange behavior. He strolls into the apartment.

Kaneki finally catches up to the other boy, and feels a chill when he sees Hide’s features scrunched into distaste as he observes the state of the room. Considering the scattered, half-eaten food lying around on the floor, and the overhanging stench, Kaneki can’t blame him for his reaction. The bathroom does not look much better.

“Um... I can explain.” Can he really, though?

 “I don’t want to hear it quite yet. First,” Hide shifts behind Kaneki to grab his shoulders, “go take a shower!” He firmly pushes the boy in the direction of the bathroom. “Honestly, you smell so bad that it makes me want to vomit too! Have you ever heard of personal hygiene, you hermit?”

“I was getting around to it.” 

“Right, sure.” 

“What are you going to do, though?” Kaneki has to remind himself to keep his hand in place as he feels it slowly slink down the side of his face. Conversations with Hide always make it easy for him to forget things.

“Me? I’m going to clean up the mess. I thought nerds were supposed to be tidier, sheesh.” He flashes a smile at Kaneki.

“You don’t have to do that, it was my fault in the first place. Go sit down or relax, please. I’ll clean it up once I’m done showering--” Hide holds a finger up, silencing his friend.

“I told you I’m doing this! You have your own job, which is destenchifying yourself!”

“That’s not even a real word.”

“It is now.”

Letting out a tired sigh, Kaneki treads in the direction of the bathroom.

“Remember to use soap for once!” Hide calls out behind him. Kaneki waves his free hand in his friend’s direction, indicating that he heard the jab.

As he finally settles into his pre-shower routine (while pointedly refusing to look at the mirror), Kaneki realizes something odd about his interactions with Hide.

Hide’s doting almost drowns out the fact that every time Kaneki looks at his friend, he notices a strange sensation.

He salivates.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so... i'm not quite sure what to think of this! this is my first time writing a fic that isn't HS, so not using 2nd person narrative or excessive swearing was kind of a struggle, but i'm hoping it turned out all right! forgive me for any glaringly obvious typos/errors. i'm writing this without a beta and i'm not really searching for one at the moment, so some slip-ups are bound to happen. also, i'm a little hesitant about aspects of culture. so, if anything seems kind of out of place, i'd be happy to listen and have things clarified! i'm doing research where i can, but there are times where the internet's not going to provide exactly what i'm looking for, heh...
> 
> i think i should state it now so that things don't get hella confusing later: the origin of ghouls, and kaneki's transformation are not quite like what they are in canon. i'm not going to elaborate on that here and now because hopefully i'll do an okay job explaining it later in the fic itself, but just know that when i tagged this 'alternate universe' i truly meant ALTERNATE UNIVERSE.
> 
> on a different note, i decided to start up the story kind of in the middle of things, rather at the very beginning, so we'll have to see how that plays out.
> 
> i know there's a lot of mystery and 'woah, what??'s in this chapter, but the story will start to piece itself together in following chapters.
> 
> the title of this fic is a line from the song "bear" by the antlers. i'm not going to lie, i listened to the entire album "hospice" pretty much on loop while writing this. here it is if you want to check it out: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xSi_FE52TAY
> 
> finally, thank you so much for reading! C:


	2. The Telltale Red

The steam from the shower has left his thoughts slightly muddled and sluggish, which in this situation is a blessing. Kaneki shuffles through the cabinet in the bathroom until his efforts reward him with a roll of gauze. He carefully wraps it around his head, covering his flawed eye. Donning his daytime clothes-- he doesn’t feel comfortable wearing his nightclothes with people over-- he opens the bathroom’s door.

Hide’s head lazily turns to observe his friend from his spot on the couch. His eyes stroll upwards to study Kaneki’s makeshift eyepatch, yet no remarks follow. Hide has a thoughtful look on his face as he pats a cushion by his side, gesturing from Kaneki to sit down. The other boy has half a mind to point out how ridiculous it is that the guest is the one telling his host to sit, yet he remains silent. He pads to the couch and settles down, keeping a respectful arm’s length between him and Hide.

“So…” Hide begins. His gaze is aimed downwards and ahead, while his eyebrows are furrowed.

“So.” Kaneki shoots back.

“Please tell me the gauze eyepatch isn’t a part of some new trend you’re trying to follow.” Hide finally looks up, a pleading look in his eye... is that _distress_? Kaneki has to cough back a laugh.

“No, no.” Hide sighs in what has to be mock relief; there’s no way that question was serious. Kaneki can’t resist pulling his friend’s leg, though.

“...But maybe I should wear it more.” Kaneki props his chin on his hand, feigning contemplation. “I think it suits me. At least a little.” Hide thrusts his hands outwards and waves them frantically at the other boy.

“Don’t! I like you with both of your eyes visible, Kaneki!”

“Well, that settles it. I’m going to wear this terrible makeshift eyepatch for the rest of my life.” Hide reaches over to punch Kaneki on the shoulder, then lets out a snicker as his friend squawks in protest.

The moment doesn’t last, and the room settles into silence.

“Y’know,” Hide says as he scoots closer, “while it’s fun to joke around, I really would appreciate an explanation.” His expression has gotten softer and it’s clear that he’s trying not to press too much. Kaneki feels himself deflate, sinking into the couch cushions.

“I’m not sure I can explain what’s been happening either,” he mumbles.

“Anything is better than nothing,” Hide calmly replies. He gives Kaneki a quiet smile. His friend’s demeanor at the moment is so different from what it usually is; the dissonance between Hide’s personality and his current behavior is unnerving to Kaneki.

“I don’t know where to start.”

“Uh… Have there been any weird occurrences?” Hide seems at just as much of a loss as Kaneki, but his prompting helps the boy in question.

“Well,” Kaneki starts, still collecting his thoughts as he speaks, “it was pretty strange that I ended up sleeping for a few days. Two to be exact.” His friend leans forward to give him a confused look.

“You mean, intermittently, right? Like, you fell asleep for a while, then woke up, did what you needed to then went back to bed? I mean, that’s strange, but I’m not sure it’s quite what we’re looking for--”

“No, I slept for two days straight. I don’t remember waking up at all. No breaks for eating or using the bathroom.”

“How did your bladder _not_ explode?” Hide splutters in surprise. Kaneki weakly shrugs.

“That explains where you’ve been though.” Hide slumps backwards. “It makes more sense than you deciding to take a few sick days,” The other boy raises his visible eyebrow, asking for clarification. “I mean I don’t think you’ve ever willingly skipped school because you were sick. Colds, fevers, physical injuries-- you’ve come to class with them all, even if you eventually got booted out because of them. You’re the kind of geek that refuses to soil your attendance record in such a simple way. You’re only ever gone for visits to doctors or dentists for check-ups, and it’s not like you had two days in a row booked for appointments. That’s how I knew you were still lying on the phone, even after I called you out for your first excuse. I knew you weren’t going to tell me outright what was wrong, so I just acted like I thought you were sick. If I had pushed you for an answer during the call, you could’ve just hung up on me.” He finishes his ramble with a lazy wave of his hand, like he doesn’t want to have to keep explaining.

“Okay…” Kaneki forgets how observant Hide can be at times. He curls his legs under him on the couch, shifting slightly when the cell phone in his pocket digs into his thigh.

“We should move on.” Hide rests a hand on Kaneki’s tense shoulder as he speaks. “What else has been going on?” The motion comforts the other boy much more than he would care to admit out loud, but it doesn’t ease the shame his next words bring.

“You saw the aftermath of the second weird occurrence,” Kaneki keeps his eye trained away from the other’s face, obviously embarrassed. It takes Hide a moment to understand what his friend means.

“You’re talking about the food, correct? The fact that it was scattered all over the place and half eaten?”

“Unfortunately, yes. I can’t keep anything down,” Kaneki groans in response. “I kept trying and trying and _trying_ , but everything tastes spoiled and rotten. Ham tastes like the rawhide of an animal, cucumbers have a horrible smell coming from it as if beetles are gathering nearby, and bread is like chewing on a bland sponge.” Hide blinks.

“That was the first thing I’ve heard from you today that sounded like it came from the mouth of a legitimate lit student.”

“Oh, _shut up_ ,” Kaneki whines as he twists to grab a pillow, which he promptly throws at Hide’s face. He settles back into his former position, and huffs. “I feel like I’m starving, and there’s no remedy in sight.” He squirms a bit internally, choosing to skip over the fact that he has to swallow back saliva every time he looks at the other boy.

“Two days with no food? I can’t blame you for being hungry. I don’t quite understand why nothing’s staying down though,” Hide shoots another curious look towards Kaneki, “you don’t look like you have a stomach bug.”

“I don’t feel like I have a stomach bug,” Kaneki confirms.

“I guess we’ll have to wait and see,” Hide stretches out, propping his arms on the back of the couch with his legs splayed outwards. “If you still can’t eat anything by tomorrow night, you should probably head over to the hospital,” Kaneki starts to protest but is cut off as Hide speaks over him. “I know humans can go for weeks without food, but that doesn’t mean it’s healthy. Two days with no food is bad enough, but three is starting to push it, Kaneki-- at least in my book.” His mouth is set in a firm line, trying to convey the seriousness of his words.

“Okay, fine. I’ll trust your judgement.” Kaneki’s not convinced that he’ll act on it, though. He’s not sure he wants to go to a hospital and be poked at by doctors once his eye is discovered intact. He’s never heard of a medical issue such as his, and its uniquity could take him down several roads that horrify him… What if the doctors told him that its apparent harmlessness meant they’d refuse to find a cure? What if they declined his requests to receive a transplant to replace it? What if they became more interested in studying it, rather than helping him? His skin under the gauze begins to itch.

Hide gives a slight nod, apparently satisfied with Kaneki’s reply.

“Anything else?” Hide’s line of sight trails towards Kaneki’s face, towards his eyepatch.

“That… That’s about it.” He doesn’t feel ready to show anyone his disturbing new feature; not even Hide. There’s a weighted pause in the conversation.

“I found the knife,” Hide states, his tone oddly withdrawn. Another pause follows.

“...And?” Kaneki knows better than to play stupid. He wills the stiffness in his posture away.

“I’m not going to pressure you over it. But that doesn’t mean I’m not worried.”

“You shouldn’t be,” Kaneki quickly mutters back. Both boys know how worthless this response is.

Hide exhales loudly before dropping the subject.

“If we’ve sorted everything out for the moment, how about we do something else? I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted.” He leans against the arm of the couch. A secondary thought flashes across his features, and he bends forward to grab the T.V. remote from the floor.

“We might as well relax and enjoy some white noise, courtesy of the daily news.” He clicks a button, and the screen of the T.V. hums to life.

Kaneki sits in his stiff position, uncertain as to what he should do now. He shifts and tries to settle into a comfortable position when Hide calls over to him.

“Just looking at you acting all lost over there makes me feel like I’m looking at a kicked puppy. Get over here, dork.” Before Kaneki can respond, the other boy stretches over to wrap an arm around his shoulders, then pulls him sideways so that he’s propped against Hide, his head resting on the other’s shoulder.

Kaneki can’t help but fidget, feeling the heat rise to the tips of his ears as he thinks about how ridiculous this is. Despite the awkwardness, he doesn’t move to get up. The presence beside him and the buzz of the newscaster on the monitor takes his mind off of things.

...Well, _most_ things.

He can’t ignore the warmth of Hide’s throat from this spot. There’s a pulse pounding a rhythm that echoes in the boy’s ears. He burrows his face into his friend’s shoulder. The mutual silence is momentarily spoiled when his stomach growls. The boy begins to shift in embarrassment at his body’s treachery, but stops when Hide comfortingly pats his back. Kaneki sags back into a relaxed position, still mildly mortified. He soon closes his eyes, letting his thoughts wander as he disregards the monotonous drawl of the current newscaster on the screen.

He’s in a state of pseudo-sleep, perception dulled yet partially responsive when he’s jolted to full alertness, brought back by the urgent jabs from Hide’s elbow and the unrelenting tune blaring from the T.V. Kaneki rubs his eye and squints past the glare of the screen, first glancing at Hide who is entirely entranced, and then at the monitor.

A woman sits behind a desk, overshadowed by the striking bold text reading “BREAKING NEWS” that is positioned behind her. Her words are clipped and formal, and her face is grave. She’s already speaking as Kaneki tunes in.

“--possible outbreak of an unidentifiable condition. Multiple victims, vastly varying in age, gender, economic status, and race have shown alarming symptoms.” Kaneki feels dread bloom in the pit of his stomach.

“Victims have been reported to fall asleep and not wake for several days-- between 48 to 72 hours.” Hide turns to worriedly look at Kaneki, and Kaneki reciprocates.  

“Once woken, they are unable to consume food. They claim that food tastes inedible, and the flavor is unbearable to swallow. Most will immediately spit out what they attempted to eat, or vomit. Scientists are looking into why this change of palate may have occurred. We are uncertain whether or not there is any form of sustenance that is acceptable for victims.” Kaneki thinks he’s going to be sick again; his stomach is already churning.

“Some reports claim that with excessive stimulation through stress, hunger, or other stimuli, an appendage, or multiple appendages, will emerge from a victim’s back. Descriptions of these differ in color, shape, site of appearance, and movements. If you are in the vicinity of a victim with an abnormal appendage visible, do not approach them under any circumstances.” This symptom is new to Kaneki, but it only worries him more. _Does this mean he has one of those things?_ No, wait! He’s already assuming! He can’t jump to any conclusions yet; he’s only shown two of the symptoms so there’s still hope. He clings to this belief feverishly.

“The most overt sign of alteration in victims is present in their eyes. When influenced by emotion, stress, hunger, etcetera, victims’ scleras transition from white to black.” Kaneki chokes back a whimper of disbelief. “The iris becomes bright red, and veins are visible even past the eyeball itself.” The boy looks over to see Hide already staring at him, sight firmly fixed on the eyepatch. Hide opens his mouth, already gesturing towards Kaneki’s face when the newscaster cuts him off.

“The cause of this outbreak is suspected to be the work of Kanou Akihiro, a doctor at Kanou General Hospital.” A smiling, horrendously familiar face appears on the screen. _Oh no._ “Dr. Kanou has been reported to be responsible for many vaccinations in the past two weeks, and it is the most plausible connection between each of the victims, due to their uniform symptoms.” Kaneki had gone in for his own flu vaccination four days ago. There’s still a miniscule dot on his arm where the needle went in.

“Dr. Kanou’s motivation-- if he is guilty-- is unclear, and officials are looking into it. His wide associations with other doctors in the field may mean that multiple medical professionals are cooperating with him. His current location is unknown.” The image on the monitor goes back to the woman.

“If anyone has information on Dr. Kanou’s whereabouts, they are urged to contact the police. If you or a loved one has received a vaccination from Dr. Kanou, or are displaying the previously mentioned symptoms, immediately call 119. While many aspects of the condition do not feel life-threatening, the medical alterations have possible psychological side effects, many of which pose a threat to the public--”

“Shut it off,” Kaneki croaks.

“But she’s still speaking.” Hide counters.

“Please,” Kaneki puts his face in his hands, grappling to keep himself from doing something irrational like hurling himself out of a window.

“I’m not going to, Kaneki. This is too important. Please bear it, at least for a little while.” He moves on to say something else, but Kaneki isn’t able to listen anymore.

The blood in his ears is rushing, deafening the noise from the T.V. as well as Hide. His heartbeat is racing, and he wants it to slow down badly. He knows that the other boy is trying to tell him something but his panic muffles the message. He’s isolated sans the resulting thunder of his elevated pulse, and the _tha-thumping_ of Hide’s own. He’s shivering and quaking, absolutely horrified because _is this what’s been happening? Had he been undergoing a transformation during these past few days?_ Looking back, the answer is an obvious ‘yes.’ His body had changed before he was even aware that it was doing so, and whom is to blame?

Dr. Kanou.

Kaneki’s dread shifts to a darker, more blistering emotion: rage.

It didn’t matter that he never knew Dr. Kanou on a personal level. Kaneki had given that man his trust, and his unconditional belief and lack of caution had led him to this betrayal. That man had taken advantage of Kaneki, and ruined him _without a warning, and more importantly, without his consent_. Even worse, one betrayal simply wasn’t enough and now there were _other victims like Kaneki_ , all twisted up and spat back out by the same evil man.

His hands are subconsciously clenching and unclenching, and he notes the stiffness in his jaw from gritting his teeth. The tension in his shoulders is torture. He’s boiling and freezing at the same time. His left eye feels like it’s straining to burst out of his eye socket, and his lower back is absolutely _searing_.

In summary: he’s a mess.

Kaneki’s internal chaos halts when he feels a cautious tug on his gauze wrapping. His eyes snap to the culprit. Hide’s expression is filled with concern as he crouches on the couch, facing Kaneki. He pulls again at the gauze, trying to explain his intentions but it’s not getting through to the other boy.

Kaneki pushes Hide’s hand away and shakes his head because _no, no, NO, he does not want his best and possibly only friend seeing what he’s become_. Hide barks something back, clearly irritated by Kaneki’s refusal. He reaches forward again, blissfully unaware that the world feels like it’s collapsing around his friend. Hide’s fingers clasp around the bottom edge of the makeshift eye patch. He carefully peels it away from Kaneki’s eye.

When the boy’s face blanches in shock, something in Kaneki finally snaps.

His focus slides onto Hide’s throat, which is still radiating heat like a miniature sun. His friend’s scent-- which was only slightly alluring before-- suddenly smells like the most enticing meal on the planet. It smells like his mother’s home-cooked meals, something he had longed to eat for years. The emptiness in Kaneki’s stomach begins to feel less like a hole, and more like an abyss. It’s tearing at his core, and the pain is unbearable. He doesn’t even pause to question his sanity when he launches himself forward, jaws stretched wide. His awareness shuts off with a final click, and his vision goes black.

 

* * *

 

Kaneki gradually claws his way back to the edge of consciousness, breaching the mental fog occupying his mind with a final gasp. He’s uncertain how long it has been. His senses are dulled, but he can notice one thing immediately.

He feels a heartbeat, but it’s not his own.

The foreign pulse isn’t in a distant rhythm in another’s chest, nor a thumping sound in his ears.  It’s in Kaneki’s _mouth_ , fluttering like a caged bird. His jaw unlocks from its rigid position and his teeth clench further into something solid. Liquid dribbles down his chin.

There’s a weak gurgle from underneath him. Kaneki freezes as the haze over his vision clears.

It’s Hide.

Kaneki releases his grip and scrambles off of his friend, falling off the couch as everything in his eyesight begins to swim. He furiously scrubs his mouth, gagging at the loose skin stuck in his teeth, and retching in self-loathing when he realizes that blood _tastes good_.

He crawls back over to the other’s boy side and leans over. His hands pat around Hide’s shoulders and face until he finds the bite on the side of his friend’s neck. There’s blood surging from the wound, gushing out as Hide’s heart rate keeps galloping. Kaneki can feel himself shaking as he desperately presses down on the wound, trying to staunch the flow.

Hide shows the first sign of being alive when he lets out a shuddery cough. The second sign is when he weakly reaches over to grasp Kaneki’s shirt and mumbles something incoherent, as if he’s trying to console his attacker. His eyes remain squeezed shut. Another gush of blood leaks over Kaneki’s hands, and he presses down harder on the wound. The hand formerly clasped on Kaneki’s shirt jerks and hits the boy in the face. Hide thrashes in protest to the pressure, and Kaneki’s free arm finds itself braced against his friend’s torso, trying to pin him down and stop him from moving.

Someone’s wailing-- Kaneki doesn’t know whether it’s him or Hide. His breathing is labored as he wrestles to keep his friend still. The itch on his face has shifted from a low simmer to a roaring fire, which is only further fueled by what Kaneki thinks are tears-- but he doesn’t know, he _just doesn’t know_. He thinks he hears harsh banging on his door, which only worsens the current cacophony of catastrophe clamoring its way throughout the apartment. Everything in his surroundings is twisting and shifting, like a mirage, and for a moment Kaneki wonders if he’s still unconscious and dreaming. All that he knows is that the telltale red smearing his hands, saturating his clothes, staining his lips, means that deep down _he’s a monster_.

The furious knocks on the door prove themselves to be real when the sound of wood colliding with drywall rings out, and footsteps pound towards the two teens. A new voice screams, while two others reply with a shout, though what they say is unknown to Kaneki.

His energy is still focused on Hide, whose movements have tapered drastically. That only frightens Kaneki more. He pushes harder on the bite, ignoring the unfamiliar hand clenching the collar of his shirt from behind.

He loses his balance as it yanks him away from his friend, and he falls backwards, onto his butt. The insistent pull tugs him further and further away, but Kaneki doesn’t bother to put up a fight as he watches a figure hunch over Hide’s limp form. A new pair of arms hike themselves under Kaneki’s armpits, trying to get him to stand up. His feet are under him, but his limbs have taken up a boneless quality. He slumps over, hearing the same two voices shout again as scrabbling hands try to keep him upright. The arms situate themselves in their former position, under Kaneki's armpits, while the other pair of hands vanishes. He can feel his heels dragging against the floor as he’s heaved backwards, still facing the bloody mess that is his friend.

Whether the lack of adrenaline or emotional exertion is to blame, black spots eat away at the corner of his sight. He struggles to keep his tunneling vision pointed towards Hide and the stranger, who is now digging through an emergency aid kit. His chin bounces on his chest when his head refuses to remain upright.

His thoughts are muddled and sluggish for an entirely different reason, now. He’s surprised when the most prominent feeling pervading his emotional state isn’t guilt, nor self-contempt, but _gratefulness_ towards the encroachers.

“ _This is for the best_ ,” a voice whispers from a dark crevice in his brain, “ _you can’t trust yourself around him anymore_.” The boy feels like he’s slowly suffocating under the weight of the mental fog he thought he had breached earlier, slinking deeper and deeper into the recesses of his mind.

“ _You’re a hazard now. A threat to any and all-- yourself included_ ,” The voice hisses. The throbbing in his skull becomes more and more muffled. His head must be stuffed with cotton.

“ _More importantly, you’re a danger to him_.” Kaneki has to remind himself not to nod in reluctant agreement; hearing voices is worrisome, but acting upon them would be even worse.

“ _This wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t so full of blind trust and naivety!_ ” The voice crescendos, fueled by anger and contempt. “ ** _This is all your fault!_** ” It finishes with a thundering snarl. Its message vibrates through the boy’s core, and he shudders in shame. A hush follows the outburst. It prolongs itself, spanning for long enough that Kaneki decides that the voice must have left… whatever that means.

“ _This is for the best,_ ” It reappears and states again, its tone now resigned. Kaneki hums his weary agreement.

With a sense of acquiescence, he lets his thoughts drift into nothingness, swallowed whole by the thick darkness that crowds his head. _Indeed, this is for the best_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel like i had a friggin field day with the poor italics in this chapter, yikes. 
> 
> but anyways i'm kinda iffy about this... i'm not sure i'm getting things across the way i'd hoped to, and this whole portion was pretty tough for me to write in general. apologies for big obvious typos; this is unbeta'd and i'm not searching for a beta so mistakes are inevitable.
> 
> i actually got to use a few small lines from the manga, specifically where kaneki's describing how disgusting things taste, so if you felt a little glimmer of familiarity there, that's why! 
> 
> gonna say this so no one shouts at me about it later (if anyone feels like shouting about it at all... i'm probably just thinking WAY too far ahead about things no one else really thought in the first place): this fic isn't a political anti-vaccination statement or anything along those lines. get yourself, your friends, and your family vaccinated for whatever nasty things are floating around PLEASE i mean i'm just contemplating what it'd be like if the circumstances behind kaneki's transformation (as well as everyone else's) were different, and this is the first situation that came to mind and stuck. i'm not trying to make it sound like vaccines are evil or anything. so. yep. that's that. also can you tell that i have absolutely no medical knowledge because holy hell.
> 
> moving on, sorry for taking so long to update. i came down with a really bad virus that lasted quite a while, and then one of my family members had a medical issue and was sent to the hospital, meaning i was spending time with them rather than writing-- i'm sure you guys understand. when i /did/ have time to sit down and write, i realized that there was a lot more to cover compared to what i expected, so the word count is way higher here than on last chapter's. 
> 
> for now, i think that's about it! it's 3 am and i'll probably think of more to add tomorrow though, heh. 
> 
> finally, thank you for reading!


	3. Black Sheep Among Black Sheep

Chaos. That’s what Kaneki is greeted with in his first waking moments. There is no better way to describe rousing to the sound of a body slamming into the wall behind him other than ‘chaos.’

He has no time to ask questions; he automatically lurches away from the resounding _SMACK_ and skitters backwards, eyes fixed on the scene as he crabwalks on his elbows.

The momentarily-airborne man, now crumpled on the floor, wheezes loudly. Heels click on tile as a woman, seething with fury, moves to tower above her opponent. _Did she_ throw _him_? From that far a distance? Kaneki can’t even begin to contemplate an answer before her foot is flying downwards and she delivers a sharp blow to the man’s ribs. The man grunts in pain and curls inwards. His defense is futile as she lands kick after kick, relentless and cold. Kaneki gets his hands underneath himself and pushes himself upright, teetering to the side as his balance proves itself to be faulty. His shoulder bumps into the wall. He can’t look away from the one-sided fight. _How can anyone be so brutal_?

Abruptly, the woman’s attack stops. She leans forward, reaching towards something in the man’s hands. She meets resistance. Heaving a sigh, she tries a new approach, wrapping slender hands around the man’s arms. Her nails stab into the other’s wrists, and he hisses as his hold is reflexively released. Smirking, she plucks the object away and steps backwards.

“Didn’t anyone tell you that it’s rude to steal others’ food?” she asks, now looking smug. The man makes a strange slurping noise in response, trying to refrain from drooling what appears to be a mixture of spit and blood onto the carpet. The woman displays a slight triumphant smirk as she holds her prize closer to her face.

Kaneki sees a glimpse of the cause of the pair’s troubles-- _is that a finger_?-- and a flash of a nostalgic, delicious smell before the woman’s eyes rest on him.

“Are you going to cause any problems, here?” A quizzical eyebrow is raised. Kaneki only now remembers that he has a voice.

“N-No!”

“Good. Otherwise you’ll end up like this guy,” she absent-mindedly jabs the man with the toe of her designer shoe.

“I don’t think I’d like that,” Kaneki states the obvious.

“Me neither. Now scram,” she thrusts an arm towards a door marked ‘STAIRWELL.’ Her other hand places the object between her teeth, and lo and behold, _it_ is _a finger_. Kaneki hesitates.

“I said scram!” She shouts past the digit in her mouth. The boy doesn’t pause before he bolts.

He trips over his own feet as he shoves open the metal door, arms flailing for a moment as he regains his balance. He flies up the stairs, chest burning while he frantically sucks air in through his teeth. Kaneki reaches the first landing on the staircase.

‘2nd Floor,’ a sign reads, placed to the right of another door. There’s a strip of reinforced glass in the center of it. Cautiously, he peers through into what looks like a hospital hallway. No one is visible. He waits a few moments longer to see if anyone would wander by. Still, there is no one. Kaneki glimpses downwards to find the handle, and gently clasps it. He turns his head back up, already leaning forward to open the door when his eyes lock onto the face of a person who has suddenly appeared right in front of the entrance. Yelping, Kaneki leaps back.

The stranger, a boy about Kaneki’s age, stares through the window. His expression is blank. Kaneki twitches in disturbance when he realizes the boy’s irises are vermillion, accentuated by his black scleras. This boy was like him.

Kaneki tries to think of something to say, _anything_ , but is interrupted when the stranger bangs the heel of his hand aggressively against the glass. Kaneki jolts away from the door, and continues his sprint up the stairs when another furious thud sounds out. As he stumbles, he thinks he hears laughter.

Kaneki doesn’t even bother to look into the third floor when he hears a variety of thumps through the door’s respective wall.

Up and up he goes, legs seizing with soreness as he pushes his body to move faster. _Why on earth was he here? And where exactly was ‘here?’ It looks like a hospital, but the lack of doctors and patients casts some doubt on that_. He briefly notes the sign reading ‘11th Floor,’ picking up his pace again when he hears a blood-curdling screech. _Are the people here all victims of Dr. Kanou_? He’s only seen three people so far, but the stare of that one boy makes his guess feel more solid. He keeps running.

The tip of his foot catches on the landing of another floor, and he sees the words ‘20th Floor’ before he crashes onto his hands and knees. He pants, ignoring the low burn on his limbs from the impact. He notes that this is one of the few floors that sounds completely silent. Kaneki can’t decide whether that is comforting or sinister. He readjusts himself and moves to stand up.

Unexpectedly, something solid collides with his shoulder.

He topples down the flight of stairs, sending out a quick prayer of thanks when nothing in his spine breaks. He’s stunned, huffing as he watches a teenage girl lower her outstretched leg, then casually stroll to look down on him from the top of the stairs. _Well, this situation sure seems familiar_ , Kaneki worriedly muses, remembering his earlier wake up call. He hopes it doesn’t end in a similar fashion.

“Who are you, and what kind of crap are you planning to pull on us,” the girl growls, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Uh.” He struggles to reply. Why is she already so convinced that Kaneki is a shady character?

“I’m waiting here,” she spits.

“I-I’m not trying to trick you, if that’s what you think.” He winces, inwardly acknowledging how stupid that sounds.

“That really isn’t helping your case.” She fires back, unconvinced.

“Why do I even have a case to defend?!” Kaneki snaps. He’s irritated by his own lack of understanding.

“You’re covered in blood, idiot! It’s pretty damn tough to trust anyone covered in blood!”

Kaneki’s heart plummets into his stomach. _Oh... Right_.

He had forgotten… _How on earth could he have forgotten something that big_? This entire time, his mind had been tip-toeing around the harsh reality that he had assaulted Hide… Even when there was evidence literally right under his nose. He falters, unsure of what to say next, because this girl is entirely correct in not trusting him. He feels his throat closing up.

Her face shows no sign of sympathy at Kaneki’s distraught features. She glares, puffing up her tiny frame as she shouts.

“I want you to turn around, and go directly back to where you came from!”

“But I didn’t come from anywhere! There’s nowhere for me to go,” Kaneki’s voice cracks.

“That’s your problem, not mine,” she bluntly responds.

“But--” He stutters and stops when she angrily stomps down a step towards him. His arm is flying up to shield himself when another voice calls out, unsuitably calm.

“Touka.” The teenager halts. She rolls eyes, along with her entire head until it’s aimed towards another stranger, this time an elderly man.

“What do you want?”

“Perhaps a little respect, for both me and this young man,” the corners of his mouth are turned downwards, but he doesn’t appear to be too angry. Simply miffed.

“I don’t owe him anything,” the girl grumbles, though she doesn’t try to argue any further. She glowers as the man steps past her and composedly strolls down the stairs until he stands in front of Kaneki. He offers the boy a hand. Timidly, Kaneki accepts.

Once he’s pulled to his feet, Kaneki reflexively moves to dust himself. He mentally clamps down the urge, feeling his skin crawl now that he’s aware of what-- no, _who_ is splattered all across his outfit. The elderly man doesn’t acknowledge the boy’s apparent turmoil.

“Let’s bring you inside…” the man pauses, waiting for a name.

“Kaneki,” the boy chokes out, still slightly winded.

“Kaneki.” The man affirms. He takes hold of one of Kaneki’s arms, and ushers him up the stairs.

Touka stands back, arms crossed as she watches the two clamber up towards the landing. She refuses to budge, only caving when faced with a firm stare from the elderly man. The teen then dutifully pulls the door open, waiting for the two men to tread through before closing it behind her. Kaneki hears the quiet click of a lock turning behind him. He tries not to dwell on it too much.

The hallway stretches in a manner that feels infinite. Passing wooden door by wooden door, Kaneki has no doubt that it’d easily be possible to get lost in this strange maze. The man has let go of Kaneki’s arm and begun to pull ahead, but he subtly checks to see if the boy is still behind him on occasion. Touka walks even further behind, her gaze burning holes through the back of Kaneki’s shirt. The boy can’t help but feel like he’s being held hostage.

He gently clears his throat, trying to offer a polite warning before breaking the silence.

“So… Where are we?” The teenager scoffs from behind him.

“Haven’t you ever been to a hospital?”

“Yes,” a memory of a woman’s small, tired frame, surrounded by bleak white blankets and pillows flits through Kaneki’s mind, “but…” He trails off.

“...But anyone would be confused if there weren’t any visibly ill patients or doctors to be seen in said hospital,” the man finishes his thought, looking behind him to receive confirmation from Kaneki. The boy nods.

“From what little we know, we believe this hospital was abandoned before we were all placed here,” the man explains.

“‘Placed’?” Kaneki repeats.

“It would be fairly difficult to get so many people to gather here of their own free will.”

“‘Placed’ is the nice way of describing it,” Touka calls, resentment making her shoulders rigid, though it’s not directed at Kaneki. “‘Shoved,’ ‘hauled,’ ‘crammed,’ ‘forcefully dragged’-- any of those would be more accurate,” she bites out. The man’s immaculate posture droops for a split second.

“But neither of you explained who brought us here,” Kaneki realizes. The teenager shoots a troubled look towards the boy.

“What rock have you been hiding under?” She asks.

“I’ve been unconscious for… Um, what time is it?” Touka gives him a disbelieving stare.

“It’s ten in the morning.”

“Ah… then probably around nine or ten hours.” He stops talking for a moment, an abnormal light-headedness creeping through his skull as he tries to ignore for the moment _why_ he had passed out in the first place. He’s already resigned to confronting himself about it later, but for now he must appear composed. These people-- or at least Touka-- is already suspicious of him.

“Either way, everything went dark, then I woke up here,” Kaneki’s eyes trace over the hall again. The girl clicks her tongue, impatience echoing through her action.

“Then I guess I’m expected to give you the run-down, unless _someone_ ,” she leers at the elderly man’s back, “wants to try and recap everything in a way that’ll lighten the blow for you.” Kaneki worriedly glances at him too, feeling second-hand embarrassment at Touka’s lack of manners, but the man appears unfazed.

“I would appreciate an explanation, if that’s okay,” he turns back to murmur then flinches, remembering his friend stating almost the same thing before the conversation that ended in last night’s tragedy. Touka speeds her pace up until she’s next to Kaneki, ignoring the earlier unprompted reaction from the boy. They continue walking, waiting for Touka to figure out where she should start. She’s still watching the man ahead as she begins.

“Every poor bastard here has one thing that unites them with every other poor bastard here. Wanna guess what that is?” She questions. Kaneki thinks back to the boy at the entrance of the second floor.

“The outbreak?”

“I guess there are at least a few brain cells floating around in there,” she remarks. “Anyways, we all got screwed over by the same guy, and now we’re all messed up in the same way.” The girl scrunches her face up in concentration, and Kaneki gasps as the color of her scleras bleed into blackness while her irises shift into red rings.

“Stop acting like it’s a huge surprise,” she grumbles, placing a hand on her hip while walking. “You’ve already seen eyes like these.”

“Y-Yeah, but how did you do that?” _More importantly_ , why _would you want to do that_?

“Just concentrate and it’ll happen. It’s not rocket science.” Kaneki feels mildly confused for a second.

“Wait, I thought my eye was already like yours.” He cranes his neck, looking for a reflective surface to study his appearance with and finding no results. His hands roam across his face as if poking around will give him an answer, and he realizes his makeshift eyepatch has been gone this entire time.

“No, they’re just like any old human’s eyes,” Touka bluntly replies.

“Oh.” _That’s strange_.

“Go ahead and give it a shot, Kaneki,” she says. The boy notes that she used his name for the first time. Maybe she’s warming up to him? He can’t tell.

“Um, sure.” He really would rather not. But if Touka is prompting him, he doesn’t want to make her more irritable. He wills the eye to change, chanting _come on, come on_ like a mantra in his head. He knows it’s worked when his left socket is enveloped with an unnerving itch.

“Woah,” Touka hurriedly steps backwards. “What the hell?” She then leans forward, squinting in confusion.

“What?” Kaneki nervously queries.

“Only one of your eyes changed,” she tilts her head, still studying it. “Everyone else I’ve seen has it manifest in both eyes.”

“The virus in the vaccination may have settled differently in him compared to us,” the man’s voice drifts back. Kaneki had forgotten about him.

“That doesn’t mean it’s not weird,” she says. Kaneki hunches his shoulders in discomfort. _Was fate so cruel as to designate him a black sheep, even among other black sheep?_ He begs his eye to return to normal, and gratefully rubs it when the itching stops. Touka shakes her head at him for cutting off her inspection, but she doesn’t pursue it.

“How about you resume your explanation to Kaneki, Touka?” the man asks, trying to get the girl back on track.

“Fine.” Her speech lacks the sting it had mere minutes earlier. “At around five this morning, about four hundred of us were stuffed into this hellhole by a newly-risen emergency organization focused on the containment of Dr. Kanou’s victims. They claim it’s quarantine, though they haven’t taken any of the usual measures that go with quarantine procedures.”

“Meaning..?”

“There’s no medical treatments and personnel to be offered, nor attempts to find and cure the root of the problem. At least not here. They gathered us up, threw us into this place, and locked the entrances. I’m pretty damn sure they’ve got guards patrolling the perimeter, too. We’re not patients, we’re prisoners.”

“But that can’t be right! We have human rights!” Kaneki frantically looks between Touka and the man, waiting for them to tell him that things would get better. He’s met with stony silence.

“How are we expected to receive those rights if no one is sure that we’re still human?” The man’s question shatters any semblance of hope that Kaneki held.

“No, no, they couldn’t just deny us our rights because of a few symptoms…” He mutters, knowing his response is entirely in vain. Touka sighs.

“Look, I know it’s terrible. But from what we know, while we may be able to _look_ the part when it comes to being human, we sure can’t _play_ the part.”

“How can you say that?” Kaneki’s eyes widened in offense, “Why are you already talking like we’re an entirely different species!?”

“I sunk my teeth into a human’s jugular and _liked it_ , idiot,” she scowls at the boy. “Same flavor as the best, juiciest steak I had ever had in my life. I asked my brother. He felt the same damn way,” Touka crosses her arms and gives Kaneki a once-over. “Judging by your outfit, you probably did too. The real question is whether or not it was someone who mattered to you.” Kaneki sways on his feet, light-headedness rushing back due to the girl’s harsh reminder. She’s still spitting at his denial.

“We’re all monsters, regardless of whether or not we want to be. While you’re still stuck in some mental state that's urging you  _not_ to wake up and smell the coffee, me, my brother, and practically everyone else has been making the most out of this hell. There’s not a second to spare for crying over your hideous eyes, or puking out the remains of whatever person you accidentally stuffed your face with a few hours ago.”

Kaneki stares, features wavering. He’s ashamed, but also furious. _Who is she to tell him how he should feel_? He still stays silent, too scared to defend himself. Frustrated at his lack of a response, she stomps a foot and speed-walks ahead of the boy and the elderly man.

“You’re hopeless,” she snarls before opening a door at the end of the hall and storming through. The door slams shut, leaving the two men alone.

Aiming a sympathetic look towards Kaneki, the man offers a weak smile.

“She gets that way often. But it doesn’t mean that her heart isn’t usually in the right place,” he says. The duo stops in front of the door.

“I, uh, understand that things have been rough for everyone recently… But how can she accept what has happened, and what she has done so quickly? How does she expect others to do that too?” Kaneki is at a loss.

“Touka and her brother have had a difficult life, so they adjust quickly to misfortune. This was merely another bump in the road,” the man sagely explains. Kaneki knows not to dig any further into the girl’s backstory. It would be rude to pry.

“You seem to be faring pretty well too, uhm…” Kaneki falters, unsure of the man’s name.

“I failed to introduce myself, didn’t I? Pardon me, that was rude,” the man apologizes. “You can call me Mr. Yoshimura, if you’d like.”

“Okay, sir.” Kaneki shifts his weight from foot to foot, unsure as to what he should be doing.

The man rubs his hands together and moves to open the door. He stops, one hand clasped around the handle.

“Kaneki,” The boy tenses as his name is called, “I will be the first to warn you that many of the people in here are rather... eccentric.” _Well that certainly sounds promising,_  Kaneki thinks sarcastically. “We’re a group randomly comprised of people scattered all across the city, and thus, some of our personalities will collide, regardless of how hard we work not to let that happen,” the man has a troubled expression. “With only five hours to learn more about the others here, there are many secrets between us; many hidden truths. I have deemed these people acceptable to stay here for the moment, but I do not know their motives, nor the extent of their characters. While I am urging you to take this into account, I do not want you shutting yourself away. You seem like a nice young man, and one doctor’s tampering should not ruin your chance at a good social life.” Kaneki stutters out a ‘yes’ and a ‘thank you.’

“After I let you meet some of the residents here, I’ll find someone to lead you to an empty room so that you can rest.” Yoshimura’s eyes scan Kaneki’s clothes, “I’m not sure how successful we will be, but we can search for some spare clothing, too.” Kaneki wrings his hands. He doesn’t know how he should feel at the moment. Nervous? Excited? Both?

“Are you ready to go?” Mr. Yoshimura softly asks. _No_. He can’t say that out loud, though. Kaneki nods his head gently.

“Okay,” the man replies, the corner of his eyes wrinkling further as a warm smile brightens his face. He quietly opens the door and gestures for the boy to step through.

“Welcome to the 20th Floor, Kaneki.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welp. there we have it. this chapter can't really be called a filler, but it's not really that eventful either?? i dunno. 
> 
> characterization is making me antsy, but that may be because both touka and the manager have always been pretty confusing to me, kinda... heh... hoping i did an acceptable job there. also look at all the dang dialogue. i suck at writing dialogue, but tada, there's so much dialogue to be written. yikes. 
> 
> moving on, i know that some of the explanations for circumstances in this hospital are pretty bare, but i do plan on fitting in further elaborations for the situation! i can't say that i've thought of every little detail, but there are a few fine-tuned things i plan on bringing up when the opportunity arises. if it arises. blurgh. 
> 
> another few notes:  
> -i know there's a lack of honorifics and that probably seems weird, but for the sake of simplicity and keeping myself from screwing things up, i'm going to leave 'em out... sorry. D:  
> -there are gonna be typos, errors, "woah wth does this mean" moments because this fic is unbeta'd and i'm not searching for a beta either, so apologies for that as well! 
> 
> finally, thank you again for taking the time to read this!


	4. Exhausted and Ill

The room is louder than Kaneki had expected. It thrums with conversation, its dwellers occasionally pacing, sauntering, stumbling to a new cluster. The boy stands back for a moment, unsure as to where he should go first. Mr. Yoshimura edges past him, gives a nod, then strolls over to an elegant, white-haired man with a brooding expression. Kaneki glances around the room again.

He sets his sight on an empty table, and nervously makes his way across the room to sit down. From his spot, he can watch everyone and observe his surroundings. The area feels tiny despite the rather small gathering, decorated with a few tables and chairs, a counter spanning the entire room’s length, another wall with lockers, and a vending machine. Kaneki thinks it may have been a staff break room at one point.

He leans heavily against the table as his attention flits between the exchanges. Mr. Yoshimura and the other man have made their way to talk to a mother and her dazed daughter. Kaneki can’t hear what particular words are being spoken, but he watches as the mother gently strokes the young girl’s hair as she converses with the elderly man. She tiredly smiles at something he says.

A little further away, Touka is leaning against a wall, sharing a serious discussion with a slightly younger boy. His face is framed with hair similar in color to the teenage girl’s, and his eyes have the same fierce look behind them. _That must be Touka’s brother_ , Kaneki thinks. He wonders if he’s as intense with his conversations as his sister.

“And who do we have here?”

Kaneki has to clutch the table as he reflexively jolts away from the unexpected voice, nearly tipping his chair over in the process.

A man is peering down at him. Immediately, Kaneki’s eyes are drawn to the eye strain that is the other man’s clothes. The searing red articles cover him in a way that accents his frame and broad shoulders. The stranger flawlessly sweeps his purple hair to the side, his blemishless face trying to convey friendliness and not achieving the full effect. His gaze is lacking warmth, and he almost seems predatory to the other boy.

“Are you a new resident of this floor?” The man questions.

“...Resident?” _That makes it seem like the stay here is permanent_. That thought makes Kaneki uncomfortable.

“ _Oui_.”

“Well, I think I’ve been offered a room here,” Kaneki shyly replies. The man’s expression brightens and he claps his hands together.

“That’s wonderful news! We’ve been needing new faces; these other residents are rather…” He juts his lip out in distaste, “Tiring, to be around.”

The man extends a palm towards Kaneki, offering a handshake. Kaneki shakes it, more for the sake of being polite rather than being amicable.

“Call me Tsukiyama,” the man introduces himself.

“I’m Kaneki,” he offers in return.

“Well, Kaneki, I’d love to hear more about you,” Tsukiyama spins around and pulls a chair beneath himself in one fluid movement with a surreal amount of grace. _He’s like a model_ , Kaneki quietly thinks.

“You are entirely correct in that observation,” the man chuckles-- _Huh? He heard that thought_? Kaneki hunches his shoulders as he realizes he had likely said his thought out loud. _Where had his mind-to-mouth filter gone off to_?

“So you’re actually a model? Really? That’s, um, pretty amazing,” Kaneki tries to direct the attention away from himself as quickly as he can, embarrassed by his blunder.

“I only have the time to do part-time modeling, but it has certainly helped me in numerous ways,” Tsukiyama replies, still sporting a smile. “But anyways, _revenons à nos moutons_ *. What do you do, Kaneki?” Apparently attempting to dodge away from the spotlight is futile.

“I’m a first-year student at Kamii University, studying Japanese Literature,” the boy answers, partially unnerved by the other’s unwillingness to veer from the subject.

“Oh! I’m a fourth-year student down at Seinan Gakuin University. I was focusing on Social Welfare in the Department of Human Sciences,” Tsukiyama shares. _Isn’t Seinan Gakuin University a school for prestigious families_? Looking at the man’s clothes, Kaneki wouldn’t be surprised if Tsukiyama came from a rich family.

“If you’re a literature student, you must really enjoy reading, hm?” Tsukiyama props his elbows on the table as he speaks, leaning towards the boy in a way that seems almost staged. Kaneki can’t help but wonder how much of the other man’s behavior is an act. _But it’s not like there’s anything he can take from me_ \-- his thoughts counter his instincts -- _stop being so paranoid_!

“I’ve always liked reading, so it seemed natural to follow a line of study related to it at a university,” Kaneki explains with a slight increase in enthusiasm, trying to shake off his uncertainty.

“Do you have any favorite authors?” Tsukiyama asks, a tiny glimmer of what could be curiosity in his eyes. Kaneki perks up at the question.

“I’ve been reading the works of Takatsuki Sen recently and I’ve been impressed… The literary style is delicate but the core has a strength.” Tsukiyama slowly nods his head as he listens. He’s opening his mouth to speak when he’s interrupted by the sound of two more chairs being pulled up to the table.

“I don’t know what he’s trying to achieve, but you should stop chatting with this guy, Kaneki,” Touka bluntly cuts in, “he’s dangerous, despite what the Old Man thinks.” Tsukiyama’s eyes meander towards the girl.

“Who says I have an ulterior motive? You wound me,” he replies, his tone significantly less amiable. Kaneki places his hands in his lap, fiddling in discomfort at the sudden change of attitude. The unexpected tension is almost palpable between Touka and Tsukiyama.

“Also, what’s with the suit? I’m pretty sure you have clothes in your wardrobe that won’t blind everyone that has the misfortune of looking at them,” Touka is ruthless. _Did she already know Tsukiyama before being brought here? She’s talking as if she did_ , Kaneki notes. Tsukiyama clicks his tongue.

“This suit is perfectly fine. But if you have to know, I was caught at a bad time.”

“A bad time,” she repeats flatly.

“In the middle of a photo shoot.”

“Tell the designer that their taste is shit.” Touka’s alleged brother deadpans, finally joining the conversation. A scowl slides onto Tsukiyama’s face. Kaneki decides to step in.

“Are you saying you were brought here with no warning, Tsukiyama?”

“Anyone suspected of being infected was separated from the humans as promptly as possible, Kaneki. There was no forewarning, or I would have packed clothes, as well as other essentials.” He makes a sweeping gesture around him, trying to portray his lack of preparation in a way Kaneki doesn’t really understand.

“So… What made you a suspect?” Kaneki tries to push his luck, hoping Tsukiyama’s (likely forced) friendly demeanor will be beneficial to him.

Tsukiyama studies Kaneki’s face for a moment, clearly intrigued.

“You’re a curious one, aren’t you?”

“I guess?” Kaneki doesn’t really know what else to say. He looks over to the other two at the table. The brother’s mouth is set in a firm line, while Touka is slowly shaking her head. He flinches when he feels a hand pat his shoulder.

“I commend you for trying to sate your curiosity, Kaneki; you should never leave questions unanswered. I’d be happy to tell my story,” he practically purrs. Kaneki swears he can hear Touka grinding her teeth.

“Now you see, from what I have heard from other victims here, many were collected on the basis of medical records. If you had received a vaccination from Dr. Kanou within the last week, you were brought to this so-called quarantine,” he begins, smugness radiating from him as he watches Touka seethe. Kaneki tries to ignore the silent rivalry, and nods in understanding.

“But,” Tsukiyama holds his pointer finger up, “I did not receive a vaccination from that particular doctor. My family has a private doctor.” _Yes, he’s got to be rich_.

“The other method in which suspects were brought in was based upon symptoms,” Tsukiyama continues, “which I, as well as the rest of family, _did_ have.” Kaneki starts in surprise.

“Does that mean that the vaccination’s effects are contagious?”

“No, it means that Dr. Kanou has backup, dumbass,” Touka’s brother jumps in. “Heard anything about Dr. Kanou being popular in the medical field?” Thinking back to last night’s news report and experiencing the slightest glimmer of remembrance, Kaneki weakly shrugs.

“Maybe.”

“He had all kinds of pals. Not that much of a surprise that he probably got some others to help him out.” Satisfied with his own contribution, the boy slumps back into his chair, looking bored.

“My doctor was one of those people,” Tsukiyama resumes. “My entire family received vaccinations about a week ago, and thus, we were all infected. Not that we knew it, of course,” he sighs. Kaneki tilts his head.

“Then, how did you find out?”

“We all slept for a considerable time and were unable to be roused, yet the staff managed to run the mansion quite well in our temporary absence. When we woke up, breakfast was an absolute disaster,” he quietly laughs. The corners of his mouth creep downwards, suddenly.

“We all realized we had acquired the same… urge… at the same time.” His voice is suddenly cold and slick, like oozing oil. “Thus, we all came to an agreement.” He looks around the table, almost as if he’s making sure that he’s the focus of the others’ attentions.

“First, we’d pick off the expendable staff members.”

With a single sentence, Kaneki feels an overwhelming sense of horror, like he’s been sitting next to a clothed wolf this entire time without even fully realizing it.

“We made them draw lots before every meal. The first few times, they didn’t quite understand, but they eventually came to know what that process meant.” Each word is like a ice pick, driving itself further and further into Kaneki’s chest. He gapes at the man.

“We disconnected all the telephone lines for staff usage, just in case. But apparently, a few of the staff members were much slipperier than they appeared,” he recounts. “Yesterday night, a little past midnight, policemen came in during my photoshoot, and dragged me to a ‘containment area,’ where they told me that one of our cooks had called through one of our private lines while everyone in my household had been occupied.” Kaneki is still staring with wide eyes.

“Many hours later, they brought me here, where I stumbled upon dear Touka,” she bristles as he mentions her, “a thankfully familiar face amongst a crowd of strangers, and followed her here. I have yet to find my family, but I hope they will show up eventually,” he finishes, dramatically dabbing the corner of his eye, as if he’s just finished describing a tragedy that he was the sole victim of.  

Kaneki tries to discreetly scoot his chair away from Tsukiyama. _How can he describe being a murderer with such a calm look on his face_? He freezes when the other man’s head turns slightly in his direction.

“You really are disgusting,” Touka glowers at Tsukiyama, calling his attention away from Kaneki.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Tsukiyama replies, placing his hand on his chest in mock-offense.

“I can’t do that if what I’m looking at is nastier than dog shit,” she fires right back. Her brother lets out a quick chortle.

“Well, how about you elaborate to Kaneki as to why _you’re_ here, Touka, Ayato,” he croons. Both of their faces droop with sourness.

“He doesn’t need to know,” Ayato growls.

“He probably doesn’t want to know, anyways,” Touka agrees. Tsukiyama rotates his head, chin pointed upwards and eyes looking down on the siblings.

“I told my story, regardless of its flaws,” he reasons, his smile as menacing as a poised snake’s. “If you refuse to tell yours, I wonder what conclusions our new friend Kaneki will have to draw.” There’s an uneasy look shared between Ayato and Touka, their lines of sight soon flitting to Kaneki. The boy tries to maintain his neutral facade. He’s burning up with curiosity, but it’s not his place. But he _really_ wants to know…

Touka sighs and braces her forearms against the edge of the table, shifting her weight forward.

“This is only to prove that we’re above that abomination,” she clarifies, gaze pinpointed on Tsukiyama. There’s triumph glued across his features as he disregards her insult. Kaneki gives an encouraging nod, and she takes one more sweeping glance across the table before starting.

“We were working a job,” she states, “and there was a dispute between our workplace and another.” Ayato makes a baffled expression at her, though Kaneki cannot fathom why. “They took something of ours, and we wanted it back. Ayato and I are considered the best in… _negotiating_.” Something about her word choice raises a red flag in his mind, though he stays silent, refusing to ruin this opportunity.

“So, it made sense for us to be the ones sent to talk it out with someone from the other company. We met up with the guy, and--”

“‘Workplace?’ ‘Talk it out?’ Are you even going to bother mentioning that we’re members of a gang, and that the ‘meet-up’ was a kidnapping?” Ayato spits at her, his frame rigid with confrontation. Touka flinches for a brief moment, but her expression hardens almost the instant after it cracks.

“It’s not like it matters which way the story is told,” she mutters darkly, “no matter how you put it, someone died, and we ended up here.”

“Yeah, but it’s not like this clueless shit--” Ayato angrily gestures at Kaneki “--needs you to put on the training wheels for him; just let him deal with the truth and learn to suck it up.” Considering Touka’s earlier fiery opinion-- which was exactly the same as Ayato’s-- Kaneki doesn’t really get what she was trying to accomplish, either.

“I thought I’d lend him some peace of mind, Ayato,” she tries to argue, leaning backwards into her chair and crossing her arms. _That excuse is bullshit_ , Kaneki bitterly thinks.

“You’re too much of a damn softie, sister.”

She angrily hisses through her teeth and turns to look away, giving no response. Tsukiyama lets out a soft laugh, as if he’s watching a comedy on television.

Ayato lays his hands flat against the table, his shoulders still tense.

“During the interrogation things started getting pretty hazy for both of us,” he glances again at Touka, checking to see if she’s still simmering. She is. He turns to look back towards Kaneki.

“We remember bits and pieces, mainly of us making a chew toy out of the idiot we tied up. There was screaming, begging, eh,” he shrugs, “we’ve heard it before; it isn’t going to haunt us in our sleep.” Kaneki gulps, throat unusually tight.

“I’m pretty sure there were parts where we could have come back from our frenzy and stopped, but Touka wasn’t feeling like stopping, and neither was I. So we ate.” Ayato shifts in his seat in order to slouch. “That’s the whole truth. We felt like monsters, so we acted like monsters. Better than Tsukiyama, who parades around like a fucking helpless victim who had to murder someone every meal in order to live another goddamn day.” Tsukiyama meets this accusation with a flat, guarded expression.

“Apparently a pedestrian walked by our interrogation space, heard the noises we were making, and called the cops in a panic. We got dragged here, cleaned ourselves up in the first bathroom we could find, and ran around until the Manager told us to hole up here.” He leans back in his chair, kicking up his legs so they’re on the table. No one speaks for a moment.

“‘Manager?’ Do you mean Mr. Yoshimura?” Kaneki asks. He doesn’t want to ask any direct questions about the siblings’ story. He wants to tiptoe around the truth. Ayato lets out a harsh laugh at his question.

“The only time you should call him ‘Yoshimura’ is if the name comes after ‘Old Man’. Everyone here except probably Mrs. Fueguchi calls him the Manager.”

“It’s a suiting title,” Tsukiyama adds, “he’s controlling everything on this floor level in an attempt to create some semblance of peace. Or in other words, he’s ‘managing’ the 20th Floor.”

“That makes sense,” Kaneki reluctantly agrees. Ayato mouth twists at the following silence. He clears his throat.

“Getting back to the point, if we’re going around sharing our own personal horror stories, it’s only fair if you share your own,” Ayato pinpoints Kaneki with his stare.

“Uh.” Just thinking about what had happened makes Kaneki want to claw his hair out in self-loathing. The crusting blood on his clothes and chin rub against his skin insistently.

“For once I agree with Kirishima; I bet it’s not that terrible,” Tsukiyama prods.

“I’m not too sure about that,” Kaneki tries to resist, appalled at the way his words twist into a whine as he speaks.

“Lay off, you two,” Touka jumps back into the conversation unexpectedly. “He’ll probably puke from stress if we push him too hard. You didn’t see all the cringing and flinching he was doing when I brought up all the blood he’s covered in.” Kaneki self-consciously shrinks into his chair.

Tsukiyama pouts in disappointment, while Ayato huffs and turns away.

Kaneki doesn’t really want to thank Touka, but he has to show his gratitude.

“Thank--” he begins before noticing her eyes are focused on a figure behind him. Kaneki twists his torso around to find the elegant man the Manager was talking to from earlier.

“We found you a room,” the man says without any form of introduction. “Finding a clean shirt was much more difficult.” He slides a white shirt from its resting spot at the crook of his elbow, and offers it to Kaneki. Unfolding it, Kaneki is dismayed to see how large it is, but in this situation, he’ll gladly take what he can get.

“Thank you,” he mumbles to the man. The man curtly nods.

“I’ll show you to your room.”

Kaneki takes one last look at the table’s inhabitants, flashing a strained half-smile at the siblings, and internally shuddering at Tsukiyama’s light-hearted wave.

As he and the man stroll to the exit, the Manager calls out a brief “goodbye” before resuming whatever it is he is doing with the coffee machine propped on the counter.

Walking back through the hallways reminds Kaneki how hopelessly lost he’d be without anyone to help him through this hospital. The man in front of him stays silent, and Kaneki appreciates that. They take a few twists and turns before stopping in front of a wooden door labeled ‘20012.’ The metal handle opens with a quiet click, and the man holds open the door for Kaneki to walk in.

It’s exactly what Kaneki had expected. A simple, small hospital room with white walls, a railed bed, a nearby chair, a sink, and another door that likely leads to a bathroom. He shuffles his feet as he turns to scan the room, underwhelmed yet grateful.

“Get settled. If you need anything, come back to the break room.” Kaneki is halfway through explaining that he doesn’t know how to get back to the break room when the door closes, and the sound of footsteps slapping against tile fades away. He sighs.

Kaneki toes off his shoes and places them by the door, shivering at the floor’s chill seeping through his socks. Unable to endure the sensation and reminder any longer, he clumsily tears off the soiled shirt he’s wearing. Something clenches in his chest as he sees the blood splattered across it. He hurriedly stuffs the horrible object under the sink and out of sight. After checking that the room’s door is locked, he edges towards the bathroom.

He meets his reflection face-to-face while stepping in. There’s streaks of crusted blood decorating his chin, his lower neck, his arms, and he has to inhale deeply to stop from choking out a cry of horror. Despite his nine hours of unconsciousness, the bags under his eyes are pronounced and dark. His hair is limp and greasy from lack of care. He looks exhausted and ill, and that’s exactly what he is. The sight of a shower to his left leaves Kaneki dizzy with relief.

He scrubs his skin furiously and relentlessly while the hot water runs down his back, raw red marks rising where his nails removed filth that simple rubbing could not. The clinical smell of the shampoo drips its way around the room, and Kaneki decides to focus on that scent rather than his long process of cleaning. He stares at himself in the mirror again as he walks out of the shower. He still looks lifeless, even without the gore splattered across him.

His motions of putting on clothes are automatic. He tucks his clean shirt into the waistband of his dirty pants, and timidly moves to sit on the bed. There’s no beeping of machines or chattering of nurses sharing gossip in low voices, and the lack of sound leaves Kaneki feeling as if he were isolated, an odd, stranded victim trapped on an island thousands of miles from any sense of normality. He misses his everyday life.

Kaneki leans back and rolls over to lay on his stomach. It’s only around ten-thirty in the morning, and he’s already slept a considerable amount, but he wants to rest more. The weariness that’s settled in his limbs in his short span of consciousness weighs him down, and he can feel his thoughts gradually sink into the mattress. He lets his eyes stay shut and focuses on breathing, and breathing alone.

He’s stuck in the strange state of semi-alertness again when he senses something pressing into the outside of his thigh and vibrating. He takes a moment to contemplate what that object could be. Then, he bolts to sit upright. His phone. It’s been in his pocket this entire time. His hands claw their way into his pocket and he fumbles his phone around until he can see his screen. _Someone had texted him_!

Something is stuck in his esophagus and there’s a prickling sensation in his eyes as he heavily slides his twitching fingers across the screen and opens his phone. He reads the message once, then twice, then three times, just to make sure that it isn't a hallucination.

 

_FROM: HIDE_

  
_you scared the living hell out of your landlady, y’know..._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *revenons à nos moutons - “Let us return to our sheep,” meaning, “let us return to the matter at hand.”
> 
> \---------------------------------------------
> 
> a few lil points i've gotta talk about now:
> 
> -wow! it's good to be back... it's been what, two months, almost? sheesh. i promise i wasn't ignoring the existence of this fic, i just had a lot going on and making this chapter required time i didn't really have.
> 
> -this chapter took a bit longer considering tsukiyama shuu is a mystery wrapped in an enigma to me... same kind of applies to ayato... just awkwardly groping around in the dark until i got the faintest grasp as to how to characterize them both took QUITE A WHILE and i'm not really sure i did it right but hey, it's done.
> 
> -another reason this took way too long is because dialogue. i hate dialogue. i can't write dialogue. so what do i do? i make an entire chapter that pretty much consists of entirely dialogue. A+ job there, me. 
> 
> -i hate to say it but this chapter doesn't sit well with me. i've got plenty of issues i compromised on rather than fixed, so if it seems like something weird is going on that doesn't make much sense, that's probably my fault for being confused about my feelings towards this long body of text.... also, please forgive errors and typos. no beta and no searching for a beta, bluh bluh, i've said it in every chapter and i'm sure it's irritating for me to repeat so often
> 
> -kaneki's description of takatsuki sen's writing is from the manga itself! that'll be a personal goal of mine, trying to cram as many canon phrases as possible into this without making everyone confused (okay not really).
> 
> -anyways, now that we've got some more characters in play and our stage kind of set, we'll be able to get more into the nitty gritty stuff... like people actually DOING THINGS. it's a lot to take in, i know.  
> (however, if it ends up that we're stuck with another chapter of dialogue after this, please don't hate me.)
> 
> -i think that's about it! thanks for reading, and being so patient with waiting for an update! :^D
> 
> EDIT:
> 
> -holy cow, we passed 100 kudos! thank you all so much!


	5. Scabs and Stab Wounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for graphic descriptions of corpses, implied torture, and body horror.

Kaneki’s mind is pulling a blank, but the ‘...’ indicates that Hide isn’t finished talking. Kaneki’s phone vibrates again.

 

_FROM: HIDE_

_you can’t do that to an old lady! i mean, she’s old!_

_FROM: HIDE_

_at least for me, i have a lot of years to spare but she’s in a different situation!_

_FROM: HIDE_

_i nearly died from surprise when i found her sobbing by my bed the moment i woke up in the hospital! she didn’t even know me!_

_FROM: HIDE_

_and no that one thing in the first sentence WASN’T a pun!_

 

Kaneki isn’t appreciating Hide’s humor, unintended or not.

 

_FROM: HIDE_

_anyways she said that she didn’t know if i had anyone else to see me while in the hospital, so she decided to stick around… that was pretty nucde_

_FROM: HIDE_

_*nice_

_FROM: HIDE_

_heh, sorry; still a little woozy from blood loss!_

 

Kaneki twists his lip. He nearly drops his phone and walks away. His weightless sensation of relief at Hide being alive is slowly being crushed by the guilt that keeps sneaking into Hide’s monologue-- whether his friend’s repeated mentions of what had happened are intentional, backhanded jabs, or they’re entirely innocent mistakes, Kaneki can’t help but cringe. He wants to talk to Hide so badly, but there are no words that could justify what he had done. His phone buzzes again.

 

_FROM: HIDE_

_i can see that you’re reading these, doofus. that’s one of those cool features about smartphones._

 

There’s no one to witness Kaneki reflexively twitch in embarrassment.

 

_FROM: HIDE_

_answer when you feel like you’re ready, ken. i know you’re probably putting WAY too much thought into everything like you always do, so i’ll leave you to it! when you text me i’ll be sure to get back quickly! it’s not like i have anywhere to be for a while…_

 

Hide knows that he’s watching, and Kaneki feels obligated to say something now that he’s been outed. His fingers are tapping against the phone’s keyboard before he can reflect on his message and how hollow it must seem; his thumb thunks against the ‘send’ button.

 

**FROM: KANEKI**

**I’m sorry.**

 

Hide’s response is instantaneous.

 

_FROM: HIDE_

_sheesh, you’re so stiff with your texting! i feel like i’m talking to a school teacher!_

 

Kaneki manages to crack a miniscule smile at that.

 

**FROM: KANEKI**

**You comment on that every time I text… And we text a lot, Hide. It’s your fault for not adjusting, even after all this time.**

_FROM: HIDE_

_i’m not going to stop complaining until the day you stop giving your best old geezer impression every time we text. so, i guess i’m never going to stop complaining!_

**FROM: KANEKI**

**And to think people always claim you’re the optimist.**

_FROM: HIDE_

_i’m an optimist when it really counts, and that’s all that matters!_

 

Kaneki pauses on his response when the ‘...’ symbol appears, and waits for Hide to send another message.

 

_FROM: HIDE_

_for instance, i’m sure you’re gonna push through this whole infection thing, and get your ass back over here!_

 

His hands are unexpectedly cold, like they’ve been leached from any of the warmth in Hide’s banter.

 

**FROM: KANEKI**

**You know it’s not going to be that easy.**

 

His tentative smile has vanished.

 

_FROM: HIDE_

_easy? no. worth it? yes._

_FROM: HIDE_

_it’s not like you’ll be sick with that illness forever, right? the thing about viruses is most of the time they’re temporary if you get proper treatment!_

Unless they’re chronic. Or no one’s offering medical treatment in the first place. It’s clear his friend doesn’t know the full extent of Kaneki’s situation. He doesn’t bother to counter Hide. He’s already feeling exhausted again.

 

**FROM: KANEKI**

**Even if I did get back, things wouldn’t be the same.**

_FROM: HIDE_

_things would definitely be the same!_

 

Kaneki is getting irritable. He has no right to be so mad at the person who had taken the brunt of his earlier actions, but Hide’s stubborn personality is making this reunion considerably more frustrating. Why won’t he just say that what Kaneki had done was wrong? Why won’t he admit that what had happened was inexcusable!? Kaneki quickly types out his response.

 

**FROM: KANEKI**

**Why are you pretending like I wasn’t responsible for what happened to you, Hide?**

 

There’s a considerable wait for an answer. Hide keeps typing something out, then deleting it, typing it out again, then deleting it again.

Kaneki starts to regret how straightforward his accusation is. He hates confrontation. He needs an answer, though. He doesn’t send anything to follow up his question.

His phone vibrates.

 

_FROM: HIDE_

_because that wasn’t you._

 

But it was. Kaneki angrily shoves his phone in his pocket.

He settles on his side, fuming at a blank, white wall until he drifts into a fitful sleep.

 

* * *

 

Kaneki dreams of Hide’s skin. He can’t decide whether his freckles remind him of a starry night sky, or a murder scene.

 

* * *

 

The sour taste in his mouth rouses him. Blearily, runs a hand over his face and prods a foot over the side of the bed, using touch where sight has failed him. The room is utterly dark, and Kaneki is dismayed to find that he has slept the entire day away.

He edges into the bathroom, brushing his teeth with a spare toothbrush that was laying around before carefully pawing at his rumpled hair. Once he’s wiggled his feet back into his shoes, he unlocks the room’s door and steps outside. He has no idea as to how to reach the break room, but he does know which direction he arrived from. With no other basis to work upon, he turns right and begins to wander.

Kaneki wouldn’t say he’s in a bitter mood, necessarily. Rather, he’s in a desolate one. His exasperation had turned hollow during his sleep. What was the point of being mad when it wasn’t his friend’s fault in the first place? Kaneki could see where Hide was coming from. Hide was determined to uphold his friendship with Kaneki, and if it meant sweeping a major incident under the carpet, then so be it.

While that may have worked for Hide, it certainly does not for Kaneki. The perpetrator doesn’t manage to walk away from what they’ve done when it comes to something like this. It stays with them, like an insistent, itchy scab, demanding to be picked at. At this stage for Kaneki however, the scab is more of a seeping stab wound. He needs to address what had happened, needs _someone_ to acknowledge that there was something severely wrong. If that didn’t happen, guilt would dog him down, then eat him alive. But if Hide, his best friend and voice since childhood, couldn’t understand that, then what was he to do?

He tugs his sleeves further down his arms, as the cold attempts to raise goosebumps on his skin. The hospital’s hallway is much more eerie without city lights shining through its windows. They must have been placed somewhere a sizable distance from the rest of the population, with good reason-- but not too far, considering he still has reception on his phone. Absentmindedly, he watches his warping reflection as he strolls, noting that his grotesque eye has remained hidden.

Mr. Yoshimura is the first person Kaneki stumbles upon. He tilts his head in a greeting.

“Kaneki, would you mind finding Yomo? He needs some help with a task, and it’ll be considerably quicker if you lend a hand.”

“Of course, I’ll look for him now,” Kaneki quietly answers. This must be a portion of what Tsukiyama meant when he said Mr. Yoshimura was ‘managing’ this floor.

“Thank you,” the Manager beams. He moves to continue on his way, but halts when Kaneki lets out a hesitant noise.

“Er, can you give me directions to the break room? I’m not quite used to this hallway,” he nervously chuckles. The Manager hums in understanding.

“You’re headed in the right direction; walk a few doors further, turn left at the first hallway you see, walk to its end, and turn right. The break room should have a clear sign above its door.”

“Thanks,” Kaneki gives a skittish wave before following the path laid out for him.

He finds Yomo the moment he closes the break room’s door behind him; he’s sitting at a table, examining an empty, black bag. The room is vacant, besides him. His eyes catch Kaneki’s, and he moves to stand up, slinging the bag over his shoulder.

“Follow me,” he bluntly says. Kaneki follows.

They retrace Kaneki’s earlier path. Kaneki reads his room’s sign number as they pass by, walking past a meager few doors before they reach the floor’s entrance. Yomo pulls out a key and unlocks the door, pushing his way through and letting the door swing back towards Kaneki on his way out. Kaneki’s already shaking by the time Yomo has locked the door behind them both, barring them from their haven.

“What… what exactly are we doing?” He finally asks. Yomo brushes past, and glides down the stairs. At a loss as to what else to do, Kaneki tails behind.

He smells the blood before he sees it; the sharpness of the early-winter air that fills the hospital does nothing to mask its thick, cloying (and mouth-watering) scent. The corpse is curled on the steps between floors 17 and 16, marinating in a puddle of its own blood. Kaneki can’t decipher whether it was a man or a woman, it’s been picked apart so thoroughly. A wave of nausea strikes him when he realizes he can see bones peering through marred muscles and tissues. He nearly keels over and vomits right then and there.

Yomo, on the other hand, moves to crouch over the corpse. He pinches its wrists between his fingers, and nudges its arms away from its chest. He pokes and studies it in its entirety, from its gaunt cheeks to its flayed calves. As if finding something to his liking, he gives a slight nod.

“Come here,” he calls. Kaneki moves to squat by his side. Yomo offers him a knife, which Kaneki takes, mouth twisted in confusion.

“We’re going to take the portions of meat that the others missed.”

“W-What?!” He almost drops the knife in shock.

“We need to eat, and this is the only option that has worked for anyone.”

“There’s no way I can do that!” Kaneki cries, hugging his arms to his chest and trying to shift as far away from the corpse as he can.

“You need to. This is for the sake of the entire 20th floor, and you’re now a part of it. Pull your own weight, Kaneki.” Yomo’s argument is like a slap to the face. Kaneki can’t be a burden, but God, doing this will be unbearable.

“O-Okay,” he stutters again, weakly brandishing the knife and moving forward to poise it over a thigh.

“Wait,” Yomo stops him, then places his hands together. Kaneki watches in bafflement as he offers a quick prayer to the body, thanking it for its sacrifice for others’ sustenance.

“Now start with the thigh.”

Kaneki holds his breath as the knife, clearly snagged from the hospital’s kitchen, slides smoothly into the leg-- the flesh is still soft. _Just imagine it’s chicken_ , he consoles himself, pulling the knife deeper to separate the meat from the bone. A thought occurs to him, and he freezes.

“Wait, isn’t this an infected person? Who knows if they’re edible?”

Yomo shakes his head.

“It’s a human that’s uninfected. My nose is telling me-- they have a different smell.”

“How can an uninfected person be here? I thought only Kanou’s patients and people showing symptoms were dragged to this place!”

“Apparently, not everyone Kanou treated in the past week received the tainted vaccination. Since they still interacted with him though, it was better safe than sorry.”

And now, they were pigs lined up for slaughter in a building full of cannibals. But hey, _better safe than sorry_ , right? Kaneki lets out a hysterical laugh, hunching over and pulling at his hair.

“This is hell,” he moans, “we’re all trapped in hell.”

“You’re not dead yet.”

Yomo’s statement grounds him, at least for a moment. Yomo was right; Kaneki wasn’t dead, and he wasn’t necessarily in hell, even if it felt like he was. Giving up right at the starting line would only be worse than the course itself. He takes a deep breath to compose himself, then looks up.

“I’m okay,” he mumbles before slowly grasping the handle of the knife, which is still protruding from the thigh of the corpse. He carves, feeling strangely detached until the knife has separated an entire slice of meat from the body. Yomo holds up the black bag, and Kaneki moves to pick up his work. Only as the slimy flesh squelches in his fingers, does he begin to feel hunger pangs that he can’t seem to swallow down. The aroma is disgusting and delicious, the texture is repulsive but inviting, and he begins to think back to what it had felt like to actually taste flesh, to have its energy dribble from puncture wounds and into his open, waiting mouth.

He hurls the slab of meat into the bag and paces down several steps, away from the body. Yomo stares at him with a reserved, slightly vexed expression.

“Your eye is out,” Yomo calls before picking up the knife, which had been laying by the corpse. He begins to saw off some shoulder meat.

Kaneki focuses on a blood-splattered wall, facing away from the body. He hates these reminders that he’s been twisted into a monster; his hunger and his eye are inescapable. Urging his eye back to its normal appearance isn’t working this time, and is only distressing him further. He wants to go back to his hospital room-- no, he wants to go back to his apartment-- no, he wants to go back to Hide and curl up the couch with him, pretending that they never saw that news report, acting as if it was someone else’s tragedy, not his. But he can’t, he can’t, _he can’t_. And he likely never will.

“I’m finished,” Kaneki jumps in surprise as Yomo interrupts his thoughts. Yomo glides down the steps and hands the bag to Kaneki, his eyes lingering on Kaneki’s left one.

“You’ll handle the bag, I’ll do the carving,” he explains. Kaneki nods his agreement.

They wander between floors, gradually making their way lower and lower. Yomo tests the door to each floor’s entrance, and is surprisingly rewarded twice, on the 15th floor, and the 12th. He and Kaneki pace through the hallways of these floors, finding corpses that are mainly picked clean, but occasionally still have enough meat to be salvaged.

As Yomo gives a prayer and then works, Kaneki stands to the side, worriedly glancing around. The hair-raising sensation of being watched hangs to them both like a stench, and Kaneki knows that there are other victims lurking behind corners, regardless of whether he can see them or not. Kaneki has taken to holding a hand over his left eye, afraid of word spreading through the hospital, saying that he’s different.

The bag gradually gets heavier and heavier, and they find some other objects to be of use. Kaneki finds himself pocketing an ownerless phone charger, while Yomo grabs a large, sweeping trench coat from its lonely spot on the ground.

When they make their way to the 11th floor, Kaneki can tell something is wrong by the way Yomo’s nose suddenly scrunches. They continue, with Kaneki looking towards the floor to see what they’d find. It’s only when he bumps into Yomo’s back that he realizes that his company had stopped to stare at the the oddity, which is pinned to the wall.

It’s suspended by two nails driven through its palms, leaving it to hang in a streamline position. The woman’s legs are bent as if she’s attempting to push off the wall, yet it’s clear that her struggle had ended a while ago, rigor mortis locking her limbs. Her hair is missing in clumps, torn out, and the gouges sprawled across her clothes and skin are jagged, created by human (or not-so-human) nails. Furious, sloppy lettering begins on the wall, scrawls over her body, then back to the wall. “BEWARE,” the message warns, its streaky, red medium implying that it was written in blood.

“That’s one of the infected,” Yomo brusquely points out. They stare some more.

“What are we supposed to beware?” Kaneki asks in a small voice.

“Whoever has decided to take charge of this floor,” Yomo answers, looking contemplative. Kaneki notes that he hasn’t tried to test the handle of the floor’s entrance.

“I think we have enough meat, for now. We’re going to go back to the 20th,” Yomo says before turning on his heel and starting to trek back. Kaneki scrambles to attention and moves to stay close behind him.

They meet no opposition, which is almost more worrying than if they _were_ faced with aggressors. It makes it feel as if they’re sailing through the eye of a hurricane.

Kaneki stands guard while Yomo focuses on unlocking the door. The staircase is dim, aided only by artificial light. The clinking of Yomo’s fiddling with the lock echoes. They both freeze when they hear another door open. Yomo and Kaneki’s feet are unmoving, yet stomping footsteps ring out like gunshots, jolting Kaneki to his center as they get louder and louder. As quickly as they come, they stop. Yomo goes back to his task. Kaneki’s heart hammers in his rib cage. He waits for something to happen, he knew he’d have to face someone eventually, and now that the moment is upon him he’s drowning in dread. He keeps waiting, and waiting, and waiting. And waiting some more. His view of the hallway remains empty. No one appears. He lets out a shaky breath.

A shadowed face, blackened eyes manic and jaw hanging, whips around the corner of the staircase, then fixes its blood-crazed gaze on the duo.

Kaneki is already shouting in horror as Yomo’s hand shoves him through the doorway; Yomo promptly leaps through. He leans his full weight against the metal door, closing it as a slamming force abruptly pounds against the frame. Yomo’s eyebrows furrow as the banging continues, and he wrestles the key into the lock and turns it, stepping away and staring at the infected, who’s now smearing its tongue against the glass window in the door.

“They must have smelled the meat in the bag,” he says before taking said bag out of Kaneki’s white-knuckled grip and moving away.

Kaneki remains dazed, in shock until he notices they’ve stopped in front of his room.

“Take a break for a while,” Yomo instructs him, subtly tilting his head towards Kaneki’s room. Kaneki leans forward to tiredly open his door.

“Good night,” he calls vacantly. Yomo doesn’t respond or look behind him, already traveling in the direction of the break room. Kaneki pushes his way into his room and locks the door behind him.

He drifts back to the bathroom, captured in a dream-like trance. He finally removes his arm from his left eye, ignoring the pins and needles in his shoulder. His altered eye is still out and visible, snapping to follow the path of his right eye’s iris. He gives it a long, hard stare, trying to imagine it as a feature of his own face, rather than that of the monster likely still pounding on the floor’s door. It doesn’t work.

Kaneki slides open a drawer beneath the bathroom’s sink and shuffles around, hands pausing as they wrap around a particular object. He pulls out the medical eye patch and holds it over his left eye, trembling fingers sliding to wrap the strings around his ears successfully after three or four attempts. He pauses to look at his reflection again, his alien feature now covered. He traces the drooping corners of his mouth, the bruise-purple bags under his uncovered eye, and his beaten-down, defeated posture.

He can’t pretend to go back to what he once was. It’s just not the same.

For the first time since he’s arrived at the hospital, he openly weeps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -FIRSTLY, i believe i'm going to put warnings for particularly nasty things in the 'Chapter Summary' section; i know the tags for this fic should be considerable forewarning, but you can't be too careful! be sure to check them, if there's anything that tends to bother you! even then, i may not realize particular things need warnings, so in general, PROCEED WITH CAUTION.
> 
> now, for other notes:
> 
> -sorry to cut hide and kaneki's dialogue so short, but tensions are obviously going to be a little high after something like that.... i assure you, they're still going to be having PLENTY of discussions. ;^D
> 
> -anyways wohohoh first sign of some seriously creepy shit! fun to write, not-so-fun to read! 
> 
> -i know the formatting for texting is rather cruddy, and i will try to look around for alternatives, but for now, it's what we're stuck with. 
> 
> -i actually enjoyed writing this chapter quite a bit, though it was hard to muster up the energy to at first! since i wrote the majority of this in about 24 hours, forgive me for typos, confusing lines, etc. i have a lack of a beta, lack of effort in searching for a beta, so on, so forth; i know some errors are inevitable considering how many typos i had to go back and fix while typing these notes out, pfffft. 
> 
> -i think that's about it, for now! thanks for reading!


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